Hunger Pains
by Broken Boys
Summary: Dean stops eating.  Sam is terrified.  Spoilers for 7.10.  Skinny!Dean w/ eating issues.


It's a week after they lose Bobby that Sam realizes something is seriously wrong with Dean.

They've just rented a room for a couple of nights in some no name motel in the middle of nowhere important to get some much needed rest. Dean's been quiet and distant. Sam's been worried by Dean's silence and distance, because he's never seen his brother grieving like this.

When their dad died, Dean lashed out in violence. When they lost Jo and Ellen, Dean cried at night when he thought no one could hear. When Cas was lost, he'd spent more nights than not drowning himself in alcohol to dull the pain.

Sam wishes his brother would get angry or cry or drink until he passes out. Any of that would be better than this. This silence. This distance. The fact that Dean hasn't been eating even though he has to be absolutely aching with hunger.

Sam unlocks the door to the room and takes both of their duffels in. Taking a deep breath to prepare himself for what he has to do next, Sam leaves the small, slightly musty room and heads back out to the car to get his brother.

It feels awkward walking around to the passenger side to open the door for Dean. It's even more awkward opening the door and kneeling down so that he can be at eye level with him. It makes the seriousness of the situation painfully clear. Dean isn't meant to be a passenger in his own car. Sam has never had to take care of his brother. Not like this.

"Dean, let's go inside." Sam says as he tries to find any sign of awareness in his brother's vacant stare. When Dean continues to sit, slumped down in the seat with his eyes focused on his lap but doesn't move an inch or say a word, Sam can feel tears welling in his eyes.

Sam dashes them away, fast and furious, before they ever have a chance to fall.

"Dean?" Sam asks, voice shaking, as he places his hand on his brother's shoulder and shakes him slightly. It's dark outside, but there's enough light from the car's small interior ones for him to see his brother's face. Dean's lips are dry and chapped. There's a small, red crack running down the center of the bottom one. His body is beyond dehydrated, and it's starting to show. His face is dry, too. It's taken on an almost pale grey tint which only serves to stands out in sharp contrast to the deep, dark circles underneath his eyes.

Sam never knew that a person could go downhill this fast, but it's happening. He's terrified. He's terrified of what will happen if this doesn't stop.

"Dean, I'm gonna help you inside, okay? Just let me help you. I'll get you inside and we'll get something in your stomach." Sam says all while he's working to get his brother out of the car and into the motel room. He's pulled his legs, one at a time, out of the car. He's turned his brother's body to the side and pulled him forward so that he's perched on the edge of the seat. He takes Dean's arms and wraps them around his neck, and it breaks something deep inside of him when he realizes just how hard his brother is trembling.

"I'm gonna help you stand on three, okay? One, two, three," Sam says as he places his hands on Dean's waist and waits for Dean to move.

When he doesn't try at all, Sam just holds him there in the same position for a second. As he's holding him, one of Dean's arms slides down and grips the back of Sam's shirt tightly as Dean tries to curl in on himself. The rumbling in his empty stomach starts out as a slow, deep gurgling before if becomes a too long, too loud growl that has him gasping in what has to be horrible pain.

Dean's face had been buried in Sam's chest, but when Dean gasped, Sam smelled his breath. Having nothing in his stomach but bile and acids had turned it a different sort of sour, and Sam knows his brother is going to be in serious trouble if he doesn't get some nourishment soon.

"Let's try that again," Sam says as he moves his hands down from Dean's waist to his slender hips and grabs a handful of denim on both sides as he pulls Dean up from the seat.

Sam is thankful that they are parked right outside of their room, because he ends up walk-dragging-shuffling them both inside. Sam backs his brother into the chair at the small table near the door and carefully lowers him into it. He takes a second to make sure that he's sitting okay on his own before he quickly moves to close and lock the door.

"I'll be right back," Sam says as he makes his way into the small bathroom and fills one of the plastic cups with water. While he's waiting for the cup to fill, he refuses to look in the mirror in front of him. He knows he's not ready to deal with the face he'll find looking back at him.

"I got you some water," Sam says as he once again kneels down in front of his brother. Dean's eyes are fixed on his, and it's almost as scary as it is a welcomed sign that his brother is still in there and aware.

Sam wraps one of his brother's hands around the cup, and sighs in relief as Dean's licks his dry lips before slowly bringing the cup to his mouth and emptying it of it contents. Suddenly, Dean places the cup on the table and moves to stand.

"Bathroom," Dean mumbles and Sam moves so that his brother can pass.

Dean makes it about five steps before his knees give, and he hits the floor. He lands with his legs bent underneath him and his palms on the carpet. Sam takes the few steps over and drops to his side just as Dean retches and the water he's just finished comes right back up.

"I'm sorry," Dean says, barely above a whisper, as he tries to stand.

"You didn't do anything wrong. Let me help you." Sam says as he places his hands underneath Dean's elbows, helping him to stand and guiding him to the nearest bed.

Sam removes Dean's boots and socks. He then takes off his outer two shirts, leaving him in his thin tee. Sam tries to ignore how completely passive Dean has once again become as he unbuckles his brother's belt and slides it from the loops. He moves to unsnap to button of this brother's jeans when he's struck by just how baggy they've become at the waist. Dean's never worn jeans that didn't fit him perfectly, and Sam now has the proof that he's never wanted that maybe Dean's eating has been off for a lot longer than he's been aware.

"I'm sorry," Dean says as he places his hands over his brother's where they're still on his jeans.

Sam looks up from his task and feels like he's been punched in the gut when he sees his brother's face. There's tears in his eyes, actual tears, but that's not what takes Sam's breath away. It's the all encompassing expression of guilt.

Sam's not ready for this moment. It's been a week in the making, and he knows he should be prepared, but he's not. This is Dean breaking. Sam's only hope is that he can keep all the pieces together.

"I'm sorry. It's my fault. It's all my fault," Dean says as the tears finally fall.

Sam knows it's not.

He wraps his arms around his brother as both of them cry, Sam silently while Dean sobs, as they both mourn the loss of the last person on this earth they could call family.

All hunters die.

They both just wish that this time it wasn't their Bobby.

Dean starts to talk again after his breakdown. Sam starts to think that maybe things will get better. When they don't, Sam does know what to do.

Dean said that he would start eating.

He never really did.

It's two weeks after they lose Bobby that Sam finds himself having to force feed his brother. Sam has stopped asking him if he's hungry. No shit, he's hungry. He's starving himself.

It's a Friday night and Sam's ordered a pizza. He's sitting on the end of his bed in their latest motel room chewing on a slice as he stares at the infomercial on the television. Dean's sitting on his own bed with a slice laying on a napkin in his lap, but all it's doing is getting cold.

Sam knows that he shouldn't be angry at his brother. He's knows in his mind that Dean's not hurting himself on purpose by barely eating, but his heart is telling him that Dean is all that he has left and he's not going to lose him.

Sam finishes his slice of pizza that tastes like nothing, and stands as he wipes his hands on the front of his jeans. Something in his head yells that he's about to do something horribly wrong, but there's something louder telling him it's okay if it helps Dean, and it's that voice he decides to listen to. He can beg for Dean's forgiveness later. He's not worried about if he'll be able to forgive himself.

"Are you going to eat that?" Sam asks as he walks over to the other bed and sits down beside his brother.

"Not hungry," Dean says as he looks at his brother with challenge in his eyes.

"I know you're not hungry, Dean, but you have to eat. You got sick last week from not eating. You could barely walk. You promised me that you would eat. You've lost weight, too much weight too fast. What are you trying to do? Kill yourself?" Sam asks as his voice gets louder and louder in the small room.

"Fuck you, Sammy," Dean says in a tone that's too calm and almost too quiet. "You don't tell me what the fuck to do. I'll eat when I'm ready, and not because you keep nagging me about it." Dean says as he takes the slice in his lap and throws it at his brother's chest. Dean's anger is showing now, and he's breathing hard with it. Sam knows the rapid breathing is partially because his brother is weak and arguing takes a lot out of him. However, it also shows Sam that his brother hasn't given up, and that there's still some part of him that's willing to fight.

It gives Sam the courage to do what he needs to. Sam's never uses his strength against his brother like he's going to, excluding their handful of actual fights. He's never overpowered his brother with him is such a weakened state, but something inside of him tells him that he has no other choice unless he wants to sit and watch his brother starve his organs until they give up, too.

"You're gonna eat that, Dean. So help me, God, you're going to eat every last bite." Sam says as he takes the slice and sets it back on his brother's lap. Sam's tone of voice leaves no space for argument, and the hairs on the back on Dean's neck prickle as he sees the intent in Sam's eyes.

"No, Sam, please," Dean says as he tries to slide back, but only moves an inch or two before his back is flush against the headboard. "My stomach hurts when I eat. I'll have some later. I promise," Dean says as he feels himself beginning to shake.

Sam has his forearm pressed against Dean's chest in a flash, and Dean struggles helplessly to get away from him.

"Stop! Stop, Sammy!" Dean yells, voice hoarse and cracking, as he fights against the steel crushing his chest and back into the headboard behind him.

Sam moves so that he's sitting on Dean's thighs and breaks off a corner of the slice and shoves it into his brother's mouth. When Dean tries to spit it out, Sam takes the arm off his chest and places the hand over Dean's mouth.

"Chew and swallow," Sam says as he stares, cold and hard into his brother's eyes. "I love you, Dean. I love you, and I'm not going to let you starve yourself to death. I miss him. I miss him, too. But you've got to fucking eat. I'm sorry." Sam says as he keeps his hand where it is, Dean's tears running over his fingers as he continues to struggle against him.

When Sam moves his hand to put in another piece, Dean stills for a second and then spits the half chewed lump into his face. Dean sits there breathing hard for a second as Sam's eyes grow even darker.

"It. Hurts. Damn. You." Dean says as all the fight goes out of him. "I can't eat. I don't want to eat. Just leave me the fuck alone," Dean pants and then winces as his stomach cramps painfully at the promise of food.

Both Dean and Sam are shocked by the sound of the loud crack that briefly fills the strained silence in the room as Sam strikes Dean across the face. The force of it turns Dean's head to the side, and when he turns back to face his brother tears are running from his eyes and stinging the cut in his freshly split lip.

Sam picks up the half-chewed food and puts it back in his brother's mouth. He uses the edge of his shirt to wipe the blood from Dean's lip.

"Chew and swallow," Sam says as his blood turns cold in his veins.

"Swallow it, now!" Sam yells into his brother's shocked face.

Dean does as he's told, raising his own hands to put them over his mouth as he fights his mind screaming at him to retch it up.

"_You don't deserve to be full. You don't deserve to eat. You deserve to starve. You deserve to suffer,"_ the voice says as he finally forces himself to swallow. When it hits his stomach it feels like a rock, and he wraps his arms around his stomach as it audibly rolls.

"Please get off me, Sam. You're hurting me. You're too heavy. My legs - oh, God, my stomach," Dean cries out as everything seems to hit him all at once.

"_Bobby's dead because you didn't drive faster,"_ the voice says as it gets louder in his head.

"Eat," Sam says as he tears off another piece of the now cold slice and shoves it into his brother's mouth.

All of the fight goes out of Dean. He's so tired. He's so tired of it all. He's so tired of everything. It's not fair. Everything hurts. He just wants it all to stop hurting so damn much.

"Swallow it," Sam says, finally allowing his tone to soften. His brother's pain is clearly written across his tear-streaked face, and Sam can't allow himself to feel bad because of that.

Dean's eating.

Sam can hear his brother's stomach rumbling as it starts digesting the first real amount of food it's received in days. He knows it has to be painful for his brother, but Sam knows that it'll get better once his stomach gets used to food again.

Sam rises up and moves to sit back on the side of the bed. He reaches over to the box that's always sat at the bottom of Dean's bed and removes a fresh, still slightly warm slice.

"Eat this and we'll both get some sleep, okay." Sam says as he places it in his brother's shaking hands.

Sam sits almost statue still as he watches his brother slowly finish the entire slice. It takes almost thirty minutes. Sam never knew that a person could go downhill this fast, but it's happening. He's terrified. He's terrified of what will happen if this doesn't stop.

Later that night, when they're both pretending to be asleep, Sam moves from his bed and slides in behind Dean. Dean had forced himself to eat another slice of pizza after his first, and he's been paying for it. Sam slides his hand underneath his brother's shirt and instantly feels the flex and release of his brother's stomach muscles as he's hit by wave after wave of unrelenting cramps.

Sam moves his hand slightly upward just the smallest bit, and is not at all shocked by the slight indentation of bones as he runs his fingers over his brother's ribcage. Sliding his hand slowly down the warm expanse until his finger rest at the band of his brother's boxers, he's equally not shocked by the growing sharpness of hipbones.

Dean's hand moves to wrap around his, and that's how they both fall asleep.

It's exactly four weeks after they lose Bobby that Sam realizes it's Christmas day. Dean still has no appetite, and he's still not eating properly. But at least, he's eating a little something everyday. For now, that little something will have to be better than nothing at all.

They happen to pass by some dive that just happens to be open, and Sam's not dumb enough to look a gift horse in the mouth.

They're only a few others in the diner. There's an elderly man at the counter sipping his coffee while reading an old newspaper. There's a young couple huddled up together in the back corner, eating off of each others' plates and smiling at each other like they're the only two people in the world.

And then there's them.

Since the place is practically empty, Sam sits in a booth that he thinks his brother might like. It's by a window, and there's a not-too-bad view of the highway and the snow-dusted field on the other side of it.

"Hi, boys," the waitress greets Sam, who is facing her, as she places two mugs of hot apple cider in front of them.

"We didn't order -," Sam starts to say, but it politely cut off by the woman.

"It's okay, my dear. Today is a special day. Everyone that stops buy gets a meal on the house. I guess it's our little way of spreading Christmas cheer. We're not doing our regular menu today, but if you'd like a good meal, I can guarantee not to disappoint." The woman says as she smiles sweetly at Sam, just as she turns to look at the other man at the booth before gasping in shock.

"Oh my! What's wrong, baby?" She says as she grabs a napkin from her apron and hands it to the young man whose face is covered in tears.

Dean takes the offered napkin and wipes his face but doesn't say a word.

The woman looks at Dean, then at Sam and back again.

"It's okay, ma'am. We just lost someone recently. It's been really hard." Sam says as he reaches across the table and squeezes his brother's hand. Dean looks down at his lap as more tears fall from his eyes, heedless of whether he wants them to or not. It's happened a lot in the last few days, and he's just accepted it for what it is.

"You poor boys. I'm so sorry for your loss. Let me go get you both something to eat. You both look like you could use a good meal."

"Thank you," Sam says as he watches the kind woman walk away.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I don't know what's wrong with me," Dean says as he wipes his face again.

The bruise where he'd struck him almost two weeks ago has all but faded, but Sam knows he'll carry the weight of what he did to his brother forever. Just like they'll both miss Bobby forever. Just like it'll take his brother a while to get better, but he knows it will happen. Eventually.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for, Dean. I miss him, too." Sam says as he wraps his hands around his mug and takes a sip of the cider.

Dean watches his brother, and although every sip of drink and every morsel of food is still a struggle, he knows that he has to stay in the fight to continue to get better. He doesn't like the tall, too skinny man that looks back at him with sunken cheeks and too visible bones.

He wants to be Sam's big brother and John's loyal son and Bobby's idgit.

He wants to live.

The woman, 'Janet' her nametag reads, returns shortly with two plates overflowing with food. There's ham and turkey, green beans, mashed potatoes with gravy, and a buttered roll.

"Enjoy, boys. Yell if you need anything." Janet says as she squeezes Dean's shoulder before she walks away.

"Merry Christmas, big brother," Sam says as he picks up his fork and digs in like a starving man.

"Merry Christmas, Sammy," Dean says back as he picks up his fork with one hand while placing the other hand over his aching stomach.

And for the first time, in a long time, he feels hungry.

the end


End file.
